


Idiot

by Morse_s Child (sherlockstummy)



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Things you said when you thought I was asleep, Tumblr Prompt, basically joan and morse being themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockstummy/pseuds/Morse_s%20Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Young fool.” The words should sting, he thought, seeing as they were an insult, but they came out fond, weary, exasperated.  He loved her, after all. Despite everything, he loved her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an anonymous prompt "Things You Said when You Thought I was Asleep" from tumblr! Hopefully, this is everything you asked for, and more. This may accidentally become a companion piece to something later. We'll see.

Morse sighed, running a hand through his hair, one hand supporting his weight on the kitchen counter. His tired eyes roved over the room, skirted over the remnants of his bachelor life, the sorry remains of a small meal, and lingered on the lithe form resting in his bed.

Morse huffed a soft laugh, shifting the weight off his game leg. “Young fool.” The words should sting, he thought, seeing as they were an insult, but they came out fond, weary, exasperated. 

He loved her, after all. Despite everything, he loved her.

Joan Thursday, asleep now, shifted in the night’s quiet. She turned towards him, eyes peacefully closed, at rest. Morse crossed the room on cat’s feet and turned off the desk lamp, letting the kitchen lamp keep solitary vigil over the room, its white light casting long shadows into the room beyond. He could barely see her now, in the dark, her breath the only sound besides his.

“Why did you come?” He asked no one in particular. “I was fine on my own.” 

His mind immediately supplied her voice, her face; Joan standing in front of him, hands on hips, resting her weight on one leg, looking up at him with eyebrow raised in a disbelieving way that so resembled her father, asking him, “Were you? Were you really?”

“Okay,” he answered the image in his mind, “Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe I’m tired of brushing others off, pushing them away. Maybe I want to rub shoulders with someone, stand close, have them need me for more than my brain, or…or…” He realized he was getting loud, passionate, so he took a breath, started again. “Maybe I’m tired, so tired, of realizing I love you, young fool, and being so…damn polite.” He looked away, ashamed of himself and his thoughts. “What you do to me, Joanie…you make me damn honest.”

Joan sighed in sleep, tucked one of her feet under the other. She’d taken off her flats ages ago, to perch on the edge of his bed, chattering away like a bird on a limb while he looked on, laughing, mesmerized in the way that he could so often be by women, carried away by their grace and ease.

Similar to the way he’d always loved birds, even with his growing fear of heights that seemed to get worse monthly. He was always soothed by their melodies, their beauty, the way they moved…

“You’re very like a bird,” he said to no one in particular. “Your song is soothing, you toss your head, proud thing. I wonder where you choose to make your nest?”

Morse sighed, fingers in his hair for the umpteenth time that evening. He thought again how he should call Thursday. But tell him what? That Joan had seen how morose he’d looked after dropping her dad off, and she’d slipped away and appeared somehow at his flat, knowing instinctively that he needed comfort (very like her mother, he suspected) even though it was not a need he was willing to recognize? That she’d fallen asleep, innocently enough, in his bed? Somehow, knowing Thursday trusted Morse with Joan made him feel guiltier. He didn’t want his boss to think he and Joan were up to something.

Joan cooed softly, stretching on the bed. Morse stiffened.

“I’d make my nest here, if you’d let me.” Joan’s voice sounded very awake, sly in that way of hers.

Morse groaned. “How long were you pretending to be asleep?”

“Never mind.” Joan sat up. “If it helps, I really did sleep for a bit. Mussed your bed; sorry.”

Morse rolled his shoulders. He hadn’t slept in it, but it was no use telling her that. “I’d like to know how much you heard.”

“Enough.” Joan patted the space beside her. “You look fair knackered. Come and have a lie down.”

Morse walked to grab his coat. “I’m taking you home.”

“Morse…”

“Your mum and dad will worry.”

Joan scoffed. “Dad thinks you’re more trustworthy than some of my girlfriends.” But she could tell Morse was confused and hurt, so she obediently got up and slipped into her flats. At the door, she straightened his collar, hands on his tie.

“And you call me a fool,” she said, and kissed him.


End file.
